


MISSION INCOMING. . .

by signal



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signal/pseuds/signal
Summary: In Mark Lee’s metaphorical book of rules, Rule Number 1 was “Think big.” He’d followed that pretty literally, because really, what was bigger than exploring the universe?When Mark Lee, first year excursions officer and golden boy of the SKSDChallengercomes across a relic of a ship and two boys in locked in cryo sleep in the middle of a highway during a mission, he doesn't think much of it. It's only when he finally gets to meet them, do strange things start occurring.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a SPACE AU!!!!!! full of intrigue and mystery and painful slow burn. i've been writing this fic, honestly, for a few years, scrapping it, rebuilding it, forgetting it, etc. and now i'm finally ready to start.... putting it out there? this is also a wip sooooo. i'm not sure how many chapters it will be but i'm thinking possibly 10? anyways... but it's FUN to finally publish it lmao. tags/characters will be updated as we go! but keep in mind this is a space angst au so violence is a given so i... won't mark it as that for now? but it WILL be prominent later? so it will change!
> 
> hope u enjoy!! and the space jargon isn't too much!! i really love star trek and theres heavy inspiration weaving in and out from that but also a lot of space media lmfao....
> 
> (also unbeta'd like everything i write :/ maybe when it's finished i'll revise it or find someone 2.... anyways)

 ★ ★ ★

 

The thing about the universe is that with all the pros that existed in regard to space, there were about twice as many cons.

One of those cons included sleep shifts never really being complete these days — or rather ‘cycles.’ Days were basically social constructs up here, with the constant shift of change in schedules and duties ending up ruining at least one person’s life.

Mark suffered this a lot more than most, almost once a week’s worth of cycles, and every time he was promised something: a better shift in return, maybe a couple more off-cycles, maybe not being included in the next lot of infirmary shifts.

A year down the line and they’d found that paying Mark off rather than letting him complain empty-handed was the better option.

In Mark Lee’s metaphorical book of rules, Rule Number 1 was “Think big.” He’d followed that pretty literally, because really, what was bigger than exploring the universe?

Hansol had paged him through his comms about an hour back but Mark had ignored it with only a little guilt, manually clicking off the holo receiver and praying the communications worker would leave him alone. (He didn’t.)

“Mark-yah, you know, don't you? Get up. Haseul switched out and you’re up, buddy.”

His voice sounded marginally louder than before, because instead of being played through the standby holo receiver, it reverberated around the walls of the cabin.

Mark let out an ugly sounding, sleep ridden groan. He heard a muffled chuckle in response, “I know. I’ll get someone to switch out one of your tertiary shifts so you can get more sleep, I’m sorry, I get it, now get up.”

Ji Hansol was a nice hyung; joined the fleet three years before Mark and was widely respected considering his job was almost never over. Mark found him especially admirable when he was bothering someone else.

“I got it, hyung,” Mark grunted, sitting up, the words feeling rough in his mouth. He missed the warmth of his cabin bed already, but he’d heard rumours around the ship that all of the Alpha crew members were going to receive fairly long missions from Command later anyway to move Beta crew in, so he may as well clean himself up and make the most of the services on the station before he got shipped out for however long.

“Thanks Markie,” Hansol responded, in an overly sweet tone, before the tell-tale click of the comms that signalled him quitting the call echoed in Mark’s ears. The room’s comm speakers went silent and Mark let out a sigh.

“Yep. I got it,” He mumbled to himself once more.

He swivelled his legs around the bottom bunk, dangling over the edge before hopping down and flexing his joints. The cabin he stayed in had bunk beds to conserve space, and the guy who took the top bunk was current partner and only crew member, Huang Renjun, but he hadn't seen the younger guy in a few cycles.

Additionally to fill out the room was a corner desk they shared, containing things like personal items and pictures from Old Earth, and holidays. Even Mark, known for his brief bouts of detachedness from his ‘home’ was sentimental enough to have a picture of his family during their travels around Vancouver a decade ago.

Years ago, when he was young and the idea to enrol into the fleet hadn’t even crossed his mind yet.

Thirteen-year-old Mark Lee, with his horrible neon green Ralph Lauren polo (smudged with blue after he spelt his ice cream on himself) and scar on his knee from when he and his brother went rock climbing near Diadem Peak. It was almost endearing, if Mark wasn't sometimes the most awkward re: emotions person on the ship. Now the only contact he got from his family was a video transmission every so often headlining the same things over and over.

 

_ how are you? _

_ are you eating well? _

_ we miss you! _

 

(Rule Number 2 was “Don't miss home.” Self-explanatory.)

 

As they lived up here, he and Renjun had their own ship, a gift from the government attained by legally working under the fleet. This meant when they weren’t on missions, they lived and breathed the ISD _Challenger_. Post the assignment of stations, they helped keep the dock running through work shifts.

Since Renjun was a master at navigation and plotting courses, the one thing he was top of his class for in the academy, most of his shifts and cycles were spent up on the bridge. Their hyung, Taeil, had been training to be an in-depth medical expert for years, and if anyone ever needed to find him, nine times out of ten he was working in the medical quarters as one of the Head Attendings.

Mark’s only vice at being the Academy’s, and now the _Challenger’s_ ‘Golden Boy’ one year out of training was that he didn’t have a specialised skill and whilst he was good, he wasn’t perfect.

Not like Lee Taeyong, one of the youngest proxy leaders in all of the fleet and labelled lieutenant; only twenty-four but working under the captain himself. Whilst his own interests for his galactic career never really crossed leadership; his mind never venturing toward the etiquette lessons surrounding captaincy, he couldn’t help but feel a longing to follow in Taeyong’s footsteps.

He’d never make it, would never have had the attention span or patience to suffer through the things Taeyong had done, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t interested.

The fact of the matter was that Mark’s sense of direction was very much easily adaptable on a ship like this. Simply because he kind of just did… whatever he was told. Not in the lap-dog way, but in the “how can I help take the load off of my friends?” Being golden was all well and good, but it usually meant he was almost everywhere at once.

Regarding their personal ship, it was docked now amongst hundreds of others, in the citadel like ship used as a recuperation and working dock for all of the Starfleet.

If you had a ship, you had to be signed to the Federation Starfleet. If not, your kind were among traffickers, Pirates, illegals, hell, maybe you _were_ one.

Taeyong had a ship of his own too, sure, but it didn’t mean he got to go out in the field a lot. His life consisted of working on the main docking ship. In Mark’s case, he was practically the opposite.

Mark’s cycles rotated bi-weekly, or whatever the equivalent of that was up here. He’d move from navigation, to supply scavenging, to being part of the reserve medical team, to retouching the mass gravity mechanics below deck. Each of his shifts were not particularly bad, because if he was honest he enjoyed his job and enjoyed supporting his co-workers, but _stars_ was he strung thin.

That positive outlook of his didn’t permeate everyone, however. He didn’t mind the fact that every time he clocked in for one thing and out for another, the leers of the guards, or the passing looks of people who surveyed him in the Academy were glazed with disappointment, or envy.

Simply because he was supposed to be ‘more’, supposed to be normal, supposed to not have the support of so many inner circle members of the dock. It didn’t get to him much, because at the end of the cycle, he could always think about the sleep he was about to get.

But sometimes — like today, sometimes — he’d get woken up early before he finished his rest cycle to take the place of someone else.

Squinting as he ran a hand through his hair, tousled from a tossing and turning period during his slumber, he grabbed his holo receiver — his phone — the one that was option issued to all Starfleet members, the one that was said to work in every single cluster in the galaxy. (Mark had only tried it out in five so far, however. Pretty solid, if you asked him.)

He peered at the time. Five in the morning, if he was going by Earthen temporal measurements. (He found some space jargon, even though he’d been up under the stars for four years now, annoying and impractical, so he stuck with the simple. Earth was simple. Mark Lee was simple.)

“Morning” was cutting it a little close, however, since he hadn’t seen sunlight in a damn long time. The space station he was living at was currently anchored by the nearest alternate version of Old Earth’s sun, flickering green at the end of its common orange flames in the Ateela quadrant.

There was no sky, no clouds, or atmosphere to determine between day or night, just the endless black abyss with a million and one twinkling lights, and his phone display set to Pacific Daylight Time to help him keep time.

This week was navigation duty. (Secretly, he actually enjoyed this the most.) The last proper mission he and Renjun had had together was 44 cycles ago ( _not_ that he was keeping count at all) and even ignoring that, he didn’t get to work with him on station particularly often.

And even if the younger navs expert managed to nag his ear off and was one of the only one’s in the universe who could annoy him to an astronomical level, Mark felt more at ease with Renjun; more grounded. Whenever they were out in the sea of stars together, Renjun didn’t let the silence grow too thick, too long.

Honestly, that was the worst part about space for Mark.

Silence. The constant, underlying fear of being cut off from other people. Not many knew how surprisingly harrowing that was for him.

Lack of communication made his head spin and his heart sink, even if he wasn't as good at voicing what he wanted to say for the most part on a normal basis, if it was a language issue or just his own emotional hang-ups.

Renjun just seemed to _ge_ t him, and Mark had realised this so painfully clearly when they had graduated and officially been labelled as partners.  During training, Mark had worked with three other people prior who didn’t seem to understand him as much, but then Renjun had come along on the cusp of the older’s birthday and they’d fallen in sync so quickly it was almost alarming, passing the cadet ranks and signing the lease on the _Observer_ together.

Mark never wanted to be out there with anyone else, and Renjun was very vocal about the fact he felt the exact same.

He peered down at himself, and then briefly at the wardrobe. It wasn’t like he could work with them on, but he noted that a few of his civs were dirty — “Need to put in a laundry req’ soon.” He’d muttered to himself. — and so he grabbed his issued, compulsory uniform, slid into some slides and headed out of the room.

He only ever slept in a t-shirt (at this moment in time, the one Johnny had bought him from a tourist trip to Venus during his leave last year) and dark, drawstring shorts. It was cold in the cabins, but he wouldn’t be seen dead in the long optional trousers that overheated him during the night and frankly, kind of made him look ugly, so using Renjun’s patch quilt blanket that he’d brought from home every single night would have to do.

Shutting the door behind him, he watched as people moved down the dimly lit corridor to get to their cabins. Only a few acknowledged him with waning smiles and exhaustion etched into their faces. They were either coming back from their schedules on board, or even from their Command-issued missions.

Around here, you could get assigned to work in certain, deemed “safe” quadrants and solely pick up missions yourself, join the ranks of the makeshift security guard.

When you were off-term, or rather your assigned group was not on active duty, you were on the ISD.

Shifts lasted six post-space temporal hours usually or were cut down to four depending on the number of things to do. It took a hell of a lot of people to run things around the massive docking ship like the _Challenger_ , so depending on how many on-deck crew there were, working here was either a blessing, or a curse.

Mark thought it was both, most days.

Mark had joined on the last shuttle to leave Old Earth at the time, seventeen and not quite full of dreams but yearning for them. He had met Renjun mid-training, a shorter, younger guy with a smile like a beacon that Mark couldn't help but be drawn to and fumbling between English and Korean in order to greet him. From that moment on, Academy life was a little different than Mark had been experiencing.

He quietly padded against the river-like influx of crew members walking the opposite way to him and busied himself with flicking down the hundreds of songs pre-loaded onto his HR. The songs he had were mostly Venetian, or even New Terran folk, but there was a playlist somewhere in the mix labelled in bold writing “21st Century World Pop”, one he liked to share one earphone with Renjun to listen to and make fun of each song that came on, even if they weren’t supposed to be distracted on the bridge.

Music was something else that would keep him steady, focused. Sure, if he heard the latest space-born group on the radio he’d bob his head along, maybe even mouth some of the words, but music from the past suited him just fine.

Turning off the option to have a hologram of the music video displayed from his phone, he pressed shuffle in the end, instantly hearing something he hadn’t heard in a long time. The lyrics to _Good Life_ blasted into his ears and brought a skip into his step, despite the walk to the communal showers in the block of the ship being short. He washed up quickly, dressing in the black and dark grey lined uniform, leaving the top button of the shirt undone since he felt oddly suffocated.

The dark trousers were slim fit, and instead of the dress-like shoes that were compulsory, fit into Old Earth Adidas trainers he’d grabbed at the Ultron 4 flea market the last time he’d touched down in that galaxy. He reasoned that, because he’d be sitting down for most of the time, he wouldn’t get called out for it like a sixteen-year-old school boy going against the uniform rules. Then again, knowing how Taeyong’s adoring fans slash lackeys patrolled each and every deck, he wasn’t so sure. _A guy can dream_ , he thought, mirth-filled.

When he stepped up onto the bridge, the surge of blue blinded him. He should be used to it, he _was_ used to it. The harsh neon-infused oseon lighting always disturbed him, got behind his eyes and gave him the beginnings of a headache. He blinked wildly, before spotting Haseul’s, and now his, empty seat and promptly heading over to it. He sidestepped two engineering officers on their way to the elevator he was just in with a shy grin and a salute, before crossing the dark flooring and sliding into his seat.

Renjun swivelled immediately upon hearing someone approach from behind, with a bright smile and brighter eyes. He had his shirt buttoned up to the top— the long-sleeved version— rolled up to the elbow crease to reveal pale forearms.

“Hyung! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been asleep,” Mark replied with a screwed-up face as he tried to stifle a yawn; fist bumping Renjun as he passed him. He pressed his thumb to log into the interactive station under his fingertips and shuddering at the familiar static-like feeling. “Shift change.”

Renjun made a sympathetic noise as he dragged his fingers across his second screen as the quiet hum of the ship’s proximity warning went off at his station. His dark eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything, swiping past it.

“I heard about Haseul-noona. I didn’t know it was with you. I guess we get to see each other more if you have double nav cycles, huh?”

“Fun,” Mark said, trying to sound deadpan and failing straight into a laugh as soon as Renjun leaned over the console to push at his shoulder. “Probably not if Command’s giving us a mission today, though. You think they might?” He continued, turning to look at Renjun’s side profile.

“Maybe. Could be possible,” Renjun pursed his lips, looking at the other through the corner of his eyes and turning the slightest to side-eye Mark, “Couldn’t tell ya.”

Mark huffed out a quiet laugh, “Always a fountain of wisdom, huh?”

“No, dumbass, I mean like, we might, but not at the right time. Like… Usually we should get them before a shift starts, right?” Mark nodded along, ignoring the drag because his level of awareness honestly wasn’t 100% yet. “I heard there's been interference and issues with the interface, so the missions aren't coming in directly anymore.”

“They're bypassing ‘em? I thought that was against—“

“The rules, yeah, that's what I thought too,” Renjun turned in his seat, peering around the room before turning back to his screen. “I don’t know. Maybe halfway through this shift we’ll get something, but I don’t think it’ll be anything important.”

“Well,” Mark started, stretching languidly and sliding down in his seat a little with a grin. “I hope it comes soon, because my back is not doing great.”

“You’ve only been here for a couple of minutes, Mark,” Renjun laughed out loud, colouring when someone across the bridge turned to glare at him.

“Semantics, Injun,” Mark’s fingers danced across his phone, syncing it with Renjun’s, before he held up a translucent earpod. “Music?”

“Sure,” He responded with a laugh, taking the earphone and putting it in; turning over Mark’s holo to peer at the track list flashing up on his screen.

Renjun sidled closer to him to accommodate the earphone length until Mark pressed a button on the earphone in his ear, watching as the wires disappeared with a sparkle, whilst flicking his thumb up the screen. “Can I choose?”

“Go for it,” He didn’t really mind what Renjun chose, because everything that was on there was one-third his input, another third for Renjun’s pop-focused interests, and the last third recommendations from the rest of his friends. It was fine by him, a nice distraction.

The quiet was nice for once, a low buzz from the feedback of the earphone, before his head was filled with an instrumental, a Flying Lotus production. The music was nice, relaxing, something to keep his mind off of it. It being… _Everything_. Space was overwhelming sometimes. He closed his eyes for a moment, humming quietly in approval.

“Now, can we work?”

“We can work,” He opened his eyes and smiled at him, and Renjun grinned back, the sort of grin that was only reserved for him and the others in their little friendship group. The only thing Mark could draw strength from before he spent hours upon hours coordinating the ship.

 

★ ★ ★

 

It was three hours into their shift when they both got the message up on their computer screens. Renjun quietly fist-pumped at his accurate guess and Mark pretended he didn’t see.

<[ALERT] MISSION INCOMING. . . Access closest infra-trans as soon as possible. >

It was there in bold, white lettering, encased in a blue border, like it usually was. A quick look at Renjun and Mark was ripping the ear buds out of their ears and cutting off the grating tones of a new Martian band playing away. They stood together and walked with purpose to the large elevator near the end of the room.

Once they stepped into the transport, the doors closed behind him. They stood close, side by side, as Mark pressed a button to a lower floor, and as the oseon lights passed through the slither of the doors.

“We haven’t visited the infra-trans in a while, so I guess the bypass really is happening, huh?” Mark said, arms crossed over his chest.

“What do you think it’ll be?” Renjun asked in a low voice, excitement sneaking into his tone.

Mark sighed, scratching at his cheek. “I don’t know, but I hope it’s something special, so we can grab some decent credits for once.”

“What, you gonna take me out?” Renjun teased, shoving at his shoulder with his.

“Yeah, I’m gonna wine and dine you, and then I’m gonna buy Taeil-hyung a new laser scalpel, and then Taeyong-hyung a fancy Captain’s hat,” Mark leered back at him, eyebrows wiggling, and the younger smacked his arm lightly, laughing behind his hand. Mark made a hurt face at him straight back, rubbing his arm when the doors opened. “So many options.”

Renjun stepped out of the elevator first, and as he took long strides down the hallway, Mark couldn’t help but tease, “You know, for such a short guy, you sure do walk fast, Injun.”

Renjun barked out a humourless laugh and walked quicker, making Mark regret his words. They turned down the hall into a brightly lit room, saluting to a pretty noona as she passed who made it her life’s ambition to intimidate every grunt on the station, “Hey, did you bring your card?”

“You’re lucky I did,” Renjun snarked back with a grin, stepping forward and swiping the slimline black and grey card with his name on and a rattle of numbers that Mark still wasn’t sure what the meaning of was. The chunk of metal in front of them sprang to life; projecting a screen above it.

Renjun’s name appeared, and then Mark’s, and then allowed them to access the transmissions they both had received.

It was like a married couple’s mail box back on Old Earth, and it embarrassed Mark to this day, even after a whole year.

The only one there read < COMMAND > and the title had MISSION PROTOCOL in it, so, that was a relief. _Finally, some action._

Renjun selected it and stepped back, craning his neck like Mark was already to watch the transmission.

An older man appeared, outlined in blues and white numbers. This was, after all, a hologram running on technology Mark couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“This message is set to repeat. Huang, Lee, the ship’s perimeter scanners have detected a large anomaly on the outskirts of your most frequently traversed sector. The quadrant is in the Fassius 26 quadrant, where you were a few cycles back. Considering you haven’t been on a mission since, your ship’s nav path will still be attuned to the trip,” Mark made a disgusted face at Renjun beside him and the dark-haired man’s laugh spilled between his fingers as the holotape continued despite them.

“The _Observer_ needs refuelling, as usual it will be reimbursed by the _Challenger_ so long as you complete the mission. It’s been hindering the inter-travel between an asteroid complex near the Andromeda citadel for the past twenty cycles and needs resolving fast. Any questions, contact Sungsim, if you can't reach him contact Control immediately.”

The hologram started to repeat itself like it said, until Renjun swiped his card across the control pad to log himself out and then swiped away the gram. The photon light particles slipped away through Renjun’s fingers. “Well, this seems…”

“Annoying,” Mark grumbled, lips pursed. “I hate that asteroid belt. Stars, I hate that whole quadrant. I thought we wouldn’t have to come back. I practically _rejoiced_ when I thought we wouldn’t have to come back.”

“Why do you hate it again?” Renjun raised an eyebrow, turning to leave. Mark followed, his hands finding purchase as they sunk deep in his pockets.

“The atmosphere pockets make the ship all, you know. Shaky.”

(Mark was absolutely not scared.)

Renjun scoffed, muttering something about how it was amazing he was scared of a little turbulence, and Mark looked at him accusingly,  “Do you really think you can laugh at me, Mr ‘I’m Afraid of My Own Holo-form?’”

“Hyung!” Renjun complained loudly, looking around the empty corridor for any cadets lingering to hear and then glaring daggers at his partner and going to jab him in the side with his elbow.

Mark, deft and agile man that he was, dipped out of the way and tried in vain not to stumble over his feet. “Whatever, the point is we need to get her fuelled up and ready for the journey. Reckon we can ‘hole it? I don’t want to take too long.”

“It’ll take a few cycles at most, so no.  Don’t be such a baby, hyung.”

“You, of _all_ people telling me that…”

 

★ ★ ★

 

 

“Please, _please_ tell me we’re almost there.”

Mark was sat behind Renjun who was at the helm of their ship. Small, but big enough and it was easy for it to be manned by two people. When Renjun and Mark met three years ago and ended up working together ever since, they decided (with the help of Command, of course) that a small ship was more efficient.

They didn’t need to expand their crew, not with what they had. It was incredibly more efficient, fuel wise, food capacity wise, even sleep wise. Mark got his own single bunk, and it was an astronaut’s dream come true.

Renjun was hunched over the helm, the control board spanning at least three more of him; his chair moving left and ride haphazardly to flick switches and maintain thrust capacity and other things Mark wasn’t in charge of and therefore only had a basic grasp on.

For Mark, he was in charge of excursions, the “outdoors-y” stuff. He was the one to step into the black sea whenever it was needed and gave as much support to Renjun as he could for anything else whilst on deck.

“Mark, my dearest,” Renjun trilled lightly in the voice Mark hated most. Light, airy, pedantic. “Are you acting like a baby now?”

“It’s been three cycles! It would’ve taken an hour if we ended up hitting the Prometheus relay and _instead_ we wasted some damn fuel just jogging along this stupid track!” Mark complained, half swivelling in the chair to glare at his partner. “We could’ve been in and out, I could’ve rested some more — hey, Renjun, are you even listening?”

Renjun turned toward him finally then with a faux glare, and after a moment smiled in a mix of exasperation and sweetness; shaking his head before turning back to the controls. “It makes more sense to not travel directly. If the anomaly isn’t an anomaly and is actually a pool of intergalactic pirates or traffickers or _someone_ not good waiting to spring a trap on us, zooming full speed ahead straight at them isn’t going to cut it, is it?”

Mark frowned. He did have a point. He said just as much.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Trust your captain.” He looked over his shoulder with a greasy wink. “Anyways, the only reason you're so mad about it is the ‘atmosphere pockets,’” He teased with a laugh. “I’ll avoid ‘em as much as possible, hyung.”

Mark scoffed at his terrible attempt of being cute, turning away from the other, “Eyes on the road, helmsman.”

The _Observer_ technically didn't have a captain. Considering they both worked for the Starfleet directly, and their own ship had a total of two members, it was never really established. That was fine by the both of them, considering captains always had considerably a lot more paperwork to file, and post-mission reports were always split by the two of them.

“We are, however…” Renjun paused, standing to peer over at the propulsion coils to the side of his control board. “Five leaps away. You’re lucky.”

“Thank the stars for that, gosh.”

“No kidding. if I were back on dock, my sleep shift would start soon. I hope this gets cleared up quick.”

“Now who's the baby?” Mark laughed quietly, side eyeing him.

“I need my rest if you want this ship piloted with minimal turbulence,” Renjun glowered right back.

Mark went about co-ordinating the directional turnstiles at his station, making an affirmative noise, the one he used to placate Renjun more than agree with him properly, and Renjun knew this if the grumble slipping past his own lips was anything to go by. When they were locked in place with a twist of the wheel to his right, he leaned back in his chair.

 _This sucks_ , he mused, shuffling further back into the uncomfortable leather, and the next time they went to a market, or whenever he got his hands on a Command-issued ship part ordering manual, he was gonna make it a point to use whatever credit reserves they had to buy new ones. _Priorities_ , his subconscious muttered mutinously at him.

Turning his head, he briefly studied Renjun, and then the sea of stars beyond him. Objectively, he had to say that the stars were pretty. Space itself was beautiful in general, and despite his underlying fears there was nowhere else he would rather be. Old Earth was warm, but space held endless possibilities, places to discover, inhabit. It was infinite, and his home was... not.

But his home wasn’t Earth, not anymore. His home was the ISD _Challenger_ , or even the _Observer_. His home was Huang Renjun and the bungalow like ship that had been embedded in all of the various different galaxies; anchored to infinity.

“We’ll be coming into the — look! There, do you see it?” Renjun exclaimed suddenly, slowing down the acceleration and letting the Observer fade quietly into stillness. He swiped a thumb across the touchscreen next to him and the soft music that was playing decrease in volume. Mark grew more alert, as did the silence grow full stop.

“Is that... a ship?” He murmured to himself, repeating it to Renjun a little louder. He stood, moving forward to brace his hands on the console at the bow of their ship. Renjun looked up at him for a second before continuing to peer at it some more.

It was bigger than the average ship, one that looked like it was either for cargo transport or mass civ travel, like the old ships that were designed to tour each of the Solar System’s planets back when space tour was something foreign and exciting. Mark had only seen them in his Highschool Contemporary History class himself, but he couldn’t deny the similarities.

“It looks like one, yeah. Dead in the water, though. And in the middle of ‘Meda’s trans relay. Why is it there?”

“You think that there’s any crew on board?” Mark asked instead of answering, pursing his lips in thought.

“Why don’t you go find out?” Renjun turned his chair to wiggle his eyebrows at him. He was bathed in blue light, from the console and the stars beyond. Mark made an annoyed face, and decided not to offer a response back; instead choosing to pad to the end of the room.

He found three lockers standing together attached to the light wall. Opening his, he withdrew a space suit; stripping to the thin white shirt and shorts that didn’t do enough for the constant chill on their ship, before stepping into it. It took a while, as the suit had to acclimatise to both pressure and Mark’s body surface area.

“You ready, Mark?” Renjun’s voice had sobered now, like it always did when Mark actually went out on excursions and Renjun was the only one in the multiple millions of worlds responsible for maintaining Mark’s safety. The boy in question was currently opening the doors to access the airlock.

“As I’ll ever be,” Mark huffed with a smile, his breath steaming up on the glass as he entered the passcode and slid through. The suit he wore was slim fit, hypo-mesh with konium infused layers. Its exterior was a vivid, dark grey that looked like scales with deep blue light-infused stripes and highlights around the shoulders, back and thighs, along with the hexagonal interlocking for movement.

There were supposedly two more suits on the ship, and Mark was certain about one because it was mandatory for Renjun, but Mark wasn’t sure the third was up to health and safety standards since he practically never saw it in use.

The insulation was good though, making Mark feel like he was standing next to his old home fireplace whenever he wore it, and the triple glazed glass front of the helmet synced to the ship’s main computer, so Renjun could audibly and visually communicate to him if he wished.

It had oxygen levels, the temperature and other suit diagnostics on the side of the screen too. _Do well on enough missions for a year and Command will consider upping your equipment, which is always a bonus!_ was Mark’s tip to any new full-time cadets, and it wasn't like he was wrong.

 “Airlock drain process in three… two… one.” A robotic voice resounded around him and interrupted his thoughts, making him startle for a moment, before shaking his head slightly to snap out of it — Their ship’s AI is still active. _Calm down, Mark, you aren't even out of your place yet_ , Mark thought to himself. — and immediately after the countdown, the air was sucked from the room as the doors in front of him opened up.

He grabbed the rail next to him and attached his safety hook to the rail, despite still embedded within the ship, but this was half because of force of habit and half because the air extraction pulled him towards the cold reaches of space. Once settled, he peered out into the black sea.

Even if he did hate this end of the universe, there was so many clusters of stars and the Ateela galaxy they’d left was in sight in a way that not many people got to see; a close bunch of constant burning gas balls that were so pretty his heart was in his throat.

 _Even if_ he hated getting here, it was worth the view. If he knew Renjun, he was probably doing the same thing right at that moment. Flexing his fingers on the bar, he pushed himself forward, crossing the distance slowly but precisely to reach the abandoned tourist ship as swiftly as possible.

He didn’t look down, because he didn’t hate himself, but the sudden loss of physical ground beneath him and shelter literally anywhere around him made his stomach bottom out.

“I... Renjun, I think I see a light on in there?” Mark said, his own confusion making it seem like he was phrasing it like a question.

“Not as dead as we assumed then, huh?” Renjun mused. “Let me run a scan before you go inside, yeah?”

“Can you speed it up a little? Hanging out here is a bit…” Mark trailed off, and to his relief Renjun switched on the camera function. It took a small square chunk out of the right top corner of his vision, but it was more comforting to watch Renjun work that stare out into nothingness. He waited, floated.

Renjun waved at the camera when the video link connected, a bright grin soothing something in Mark, before his fingers tapped in a flurry across the console. “Hmm… Life support is on. Air pressure stabilised... Looks like there should be breathable air in there, too. I can’t spot any lifeforms but, I’m pretty sure it’s empty.”

“Stars, I hope so,” Mark mumbled, finally crossing the last part of the path. He reached the airlock and twisted the external wheel. “Fuck,” he breathed out in exertion, “this ship is so old. The wheel is rusted and too hard to turn, and, _agh_ , stars, literally nobody in this sector has this entry system anymore. When the hell was this built?”

A pause. “What if its been drifting longer than two cycles?” He asked, suddenly unsure if he was about to board a relic.

“Scan says it’s inconclusive. I don’t think it’s been too long though, can’t have been, not if Command only just wanted us to come out here now. Oh, and someone would’ve ransacked it for parts, and that at least would be obvious, wouldn’t it?”

“It is pretty intact, I guess. Still — _old_ ,” Mark said, punctuating the last word with one last tug. The entrance way opened, and when he finally slid into the airlock to pull the door closed behind him, he heard the edge of the words that Mark assumed were “airlock breach.” He watched as the airlock resealed just as the words broke off to inform, “Airlock sealed.”

“Mark, I don’t wanna worry you, but I don’t have visuals on you anymore so you gotta keep me updated,” Renjun said, worry swimming in his expression as he tapped frantically on the console.

Mark stopped then, looking around the airlock with slow and careful eyes, “It’s blocking scans?”

“It’s blocking you and bio heat signatures, so yeah. Turns out there might be someone on board, I just can’t determine whether that's true so you’re gonna have to do that for me, hyung.”

Mark laughed softly, nervously, trying to sound calm to placate his partner, “Well, I can breathe. Lights are on, this… You know, this looks like a fully functional ship, Renjun.”

Withdrawing the small stun pistol from his thigh holster, he considered taking his helmet off and then aborted the action midway. He didn’t know anything about the ship, or its possible inhabitants and any armour was crucial. He stepped forward and pressed his palm over the illuminating green button by the door and watched as it opened up into light.

The hallways were lit, the consoles were alive, everything was running, and yet… it was quiet. Nobody was there, nobody he could hear, or see. The corridors were long, and dark coloured, a weird silvery tone accentuated by the bright white lights overhead, and not particularly intricate.

It was strangely old, or at least not from any close galaxy for sure. He walked quietly down the hallway in precise movements (slightly crouched, handgun drawn close, shoulders hunched), to reduce sound and his frame so he didn’t stand out. “It’s completely silent in here. Nobody as of yet. I’ll continue exploring.”

“That’s so weird. You’d think people would be around, working. Stars, maybe asleep at least.” Renjun sighed, voice crackling slightly. “Are you checking into all the rooms?”

“Mhm,” Mark made an affirmative noise as he passed each room after deeming it clear. The low light of his suit projected against the walls, and made the area he stood in eerie and like something from one of Xuxi’s Old Earth horror comics,  “but there’s not many. It’s way smaller up close—“

“The ship?”

“Yeah. It could only fit about four people maybe? I think… well, first impressions are that it was made to give the illusion of a bigger force.”

His pistol was lowered post-clearance of each room. That was one of the weirdest things, however. Each room that he checked was empty, cabin bed made, with no hide or hair of anybody living there. _Where could they be? Who brought this ship here?_

It wasn’t until he turned the corner into the final room marked CRYO ISOLATION in bold lettering, did he find what he was looking for.

After he stepped in, his suspicions were confirmed. Nobody was on the ship — awake at least. That was because they were here instead. Two bodies were in cryogenic containment, and by the looks of it, it had only been two full cycles since they’d submerged if the static monitor detailing the cryo machine turn on date meant anything. “Got something, Renjun.”

“What is it?” Renjun said, interest piqued in his voice that was crackling.

“Two bodies. Alive, been here for a while in cryo suspension.”

No wonder nobody had been on the ship. They were out for the count.

“This just got weirder,” Renjun mumbled, and a pause was apparent before: “How long? Are they injured? Stars, are they salvageable?”

“Mm…” Mark made an unconcerned noise, before peering over the closest coffin-like machine. The condensation and the biotic liquid made it hard to decipher who the hell was beneath the glass, but he tried to determine if they were hurt or not. The first man under the glass at first glance looked light haired, but it was difficult with the fluid lining his temples. He had open features with his lips parted and relaxed expression, but all sharp lines and angles.

He was dressed in a grey uniform, not too dissimilar to Mark’s dark Starfleet one, and Mark bet that if he crossed over to the other pod, that the other person would be wearing the exact same thing.

And, of course, he was right.

The other one looked smaller, younger. He had nicely shaped eyes, full lips, and looked every bit the opposite of someone who belonged in danger zone that was space; open features making him look younger than he probably was. He wore the same outfit as the other man, his chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly slow, and had two silver piercings lining his left ear.

The stark difference, however dulled it was with the liquid, was his stark, orange hair. It contrasted against the dim, washed out surroundings.

“Objectively and through the looking glass, literally, they look fine. They've only been under for —” Mark paused then, leaning over the cryogen tank to peer at the main life support machine, and the counter, once again just to confirm. “— two cycles, but we need to extract as soon as.”

“Reckon we can take them now?” Renjun asked, worrying at his lip. He heard a scrabbling of fingers across a dashboard.

“Command will probably wanna get Taeyong-hyung or someone to interview ‘em. They’ll want to know why their ship was blocking public transport for two days. Also, why in stars name they went to sleep instead of piloting a perfectly working ship and going on their way. This just... _screams_ suspicious to me.”

“You’re not wrong…” The younger murmured, “Okay, let me set up the transport beds and I’ll come meet you.”

Mark made an affirmative noise, before switching off his mic. If Renjun needed him, he’d still hear it. Peering down at the man with the bright hair, he wondered out loud to himself.

“Why did you put yourself under in the middle of the space highway when there was a relay right there?”

Briefly, he expected the man to wake up to answer him. A hand slamming against the glass like in every Old Earth horror movie, shock factor that would definitely make him fall to the ground in surprise, as he rose and proceeded to tell him every single part of their journey leading up to this moment.

The both of them, however, stayed silent, eyes closed and breathing barely-perceptively regulated, and some part of truly Mark wanted to know. But, then again, as soon as they got to the station it was Command’s problem, not theirs, and _stars_ , could Mark could use some more credits. And some real food.

Maybe Command would be feeling generous.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renjun glowered at him, grabbing at his wrist and prying him off. Mark’s embarrassment was prominent, displayed through his already wide eyes looking like something akin to saucers, the red tips of his ears. “I am not gonna comment on that. Apart from, like, if I end up with a fat lip later. _Then_ I’m filing for a divorce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she's already updated?? she's a wildcard who can't be tamed and has no patience whatsoever! she also doubts another chapter will update tomorrow but who can say what the world could bring us????

★ ★ ★

 

Transporting the cryo boys — as Renjun had taken to calling them — actually turned out to be easier than expected.

When they’d gotten back to the _Challenger_ , four cycles later, Taeil had intercepted them upon arrival and taken the mysterious two straight to the infirmary to put them into induced comas. If they jaggedly woke up instead of being eased out of their sleep, it meant a long list of health complications that would confound things further.

Frankly, Mark was ready to wash his hands of them completely, though.

In all honesty, at least post-mission, good food came before anything and _stars_ , was he sick of the air-dried space food they had stocked on their ship, and the shitty basic meals the space dock cafeteria offered.

They’d gotten their credits, a healthy 6k each, and Mark planned on eating good for the first time in a while, on top of other things.

He had been joking about taking Renjun out to eat among all the other things he would buy for his friends, but in the end, he was considering it. The rest of his little group of friends too, if they wanted.

Second on the agenda, of course, was the damn chair refit.

He checked the time on his holo receiver. It was currently after shift hours for Alpha and Beta workers, and as far as he was concerned, he believed the only people working were Epsilon, which meant all of his friends should hypothetically be around.

He contacted them individually, sans Renjun who was napping on their top bunk with his arm dangling over the side.

They all agreed to meet him, to his pleasant surprise. That is, apart from Johnny and Jaehyun who were sadly on the other side of the galaxy returning from their search and recovery mission. Due to the fragile merchandise on ship, they were instructed not to jump, meaning they wouldn’t be back until the next morning, missing out on the night's meet up.

Regardless, it had been a while since a good chunk of them had been able to meet up, and he yawned (but in anticipation!); hopping out of the bottom cabin bunk to stretch himself out properly. Afterwards, he tugged on Renjun’s arm hanging out of the bed, fingers wrapped around the other's wrist. The younger boy opened his eyes slowly, fixing his partner with an suspicious, and mildly threateninglook. It was ultimately unconvincing once you registered that fluffy hair of his sticking up at odd angles.

“You still wanna go eat, Renjun-ah?” Mark grinned up at him, sweeping a thumb over the faint blue veins in his wrist. “I’m treating.”

“You takin’ me out, hyung?” He asked, simultaneously wiggling his eyebrows and fighting back a yawn. What a sight.

Mark laughed under his breath, replying, “Yeah, sure. You, and the rest of those losers we call friends.”

Renjun grinned, pulling himself to a sitting position and pushing his fringe out of his face. “My heart is down, but stars am I tired,” He punctuated that with an actual yawn, then.

“Wellllll...” Mark began slowly, looking around the room with a placid expression before returning to look at Renjun, “It’d be a shame if you miss it. I know Sicheng-hyung is coming down, and I—"

Renjun proceeded to choke on air, and Mark resisted the urge to cackle like a witch. 

“Not funny, Mark Lee,” Renjun said after he was done, glowering at him, and Mark simply patted his hand simply to move in front of their shared wardrobe.

“Well, I thought it was,” Mark mused honestly, as he heard Renjun hop off of the top bed and hit the dark floor of their cabin. “Go get dressed.”

“You having a shower?”

“Nope, I had one at the start of this cycle.” Mark said easily, and Renjun grinned at him toothily, stretching ever so slightly and shifting his weight from the balls of his feet.

“Well I didn't, so I'm gonna have one now,” He decided, promptly grabbing a pile of clothes and slipping by his partner to take a shirt off the hanger.

“Hurry up, dude. We’re meeting them in like, twenty.”

Renjun turned, leaving the room with a smile and a salute that Mark shook his head at. That was _his_ thing.

He peered at his clothes hanging up in the wardrobe. Even though they were heading to his favourite restaurant, the diner’s temperature was perpetually always flitting between warm and cold to accommodate for all of the different culinary dishes served. Running his fingers past outfit after outfit, he ended up grabbing a plain white shirt, and fairly boring blue jeans rolled up at the cuffs.

Slinging the green bomber jacket he practically always wore on free days over his shoulders, he stole a few glances at the mirror and deemed himself decent enough to grab a meal.

He was in the middle running his hands through his hair in an attempt to just do something with it when Renjun came back.

He’d grabbed Mark’s dark blue denim jacket that was haphazardly lying on their desk chair, the one that made Mark feel bigger and broader and fit his attitude the way that sometimes his appearance didn't measure up to par, before turning to face the older boy.

Mark jazz hands’d very lacklusterly, grinning when Renjun muffled a laugh behind his hand. Appraising him, he shrugged, “It’ll do.”

“We’re grabbing dinner, not going to a banquet.”  

“ _What_ , hyung? Don’t tell me you aren’t dressing to impress T—" Renjun’s exaggerated-sounding words were metaphorically shoved back down his throat when Mark’s placed a hand quickly against the other’s mouth.

Realistically, it was a stupid reaction. They were alone in their sound-proofed room, door closed, room comm not on an open channel, but when his friend was about to bring to light the one thing he’d started to forget about... well.

Renjun glowered at him, grabbing at his wrist and prying him off. Mark’s embarrassment was prominent, displayed through his already wide eyes looking like something akin to saucers, the red tips of his ears. “I am not gonna comment on that. Apart from, like, if I end up with a fat lip later. _Then_ I’m filing for a divorce.”

Mark laughed nervously, feeling slightly bad, and grabbing his friend by the shoulders instead to direct him out of the room.

“Okay, coooool, cool, remember that the walk across the plaza takes a pretty long time, so let’s go maybe?”

“You are absolutely hopeless.”

 

★ ★ ★

 

“I’m surprised that Taeyong-hyung’s gang isn't here,” Mark said conversationally, sometime into the meal. The others around rumbled with laughter, and the man in question almost dropped his spoon when he heard the tease.

“What gang? I don't have a gang,” Taeyong complained, levelling him with an embarrassed, pointed look across the table. (Mark hated that he still felt a flutter in his stomach at that.) “I mean if anything, you're my gang.”

“Oh, Yongie,” Taeil cooed, reaching over Renjun and pinching his cheek, “What an adorable sentiment.”

“Stoooop.”

Now, if you asked him, Taeyong absolutely didn't whine, but he did lean back and out of his reach, trying to eat his food in peace. Taeil smiled warmly as he chewed through the pasta Mark had bought him.

Mark himself wasn't sure where this kind thought had sprung from, but secretly it felt nice to treat his friends.

Renjun was next to him, tucking into his Venetian delicacy bowl that only him out of their friends could stomach, miraculously.

Kun, Sicheng and Xuxi weren’t always around due to being on the Beta shift, so at the same time whilst Johnny and Jaehyun couldn’t join them, the former three had completed their missions earlier and therefore could make Mark’s little dinner meetup.

It was even a nice surprise to see that Chenle, one of Mark’s absolute favourite trainees, had finished his training for the day and had the opportunity to demolish some grilled meat; still in his cadet uniform.

“Come on hyung, I mean like Minhyun-hyung, Jiyoung-noona and Youngm—“

“What about us?” A nasally voice behind Mark made him let out sigh and fix Taeyong with a positively wounded look.

 _You did this,_  he conveyed with his eyes.

Taeyong grimaced right back. _Sorry, kid._

Mark let out a breath before he rested his elbow on the back of his chair, twisting his body to see Minhyun and Youngmin standing a few steps away. Jiyoung wasn’t around, and Mark counted his blessings, because if they were horrible as a two, they were downright nasty as a trio.

The two older guys were in their civs too, and briefly, he hoped Taeyong wouldn't be persuaded to let them sit down at their table, and buy them a meal.

The worst thing was, Mark probably would feel guilty and do it anyway despite how consistently poor they had treated him in the years he was a trainee.

“Talking about how you brighten up our day, ‘cos we miss your presence and stuff,” Chenle offered, and even his sarcasm coming off cheerful. He was the youngest amongst them, still one year from finished his cadetship but seemingly everyone had adopted him in their own special way, into their friendship group and otherwise.

Mark had met him when Renjun had invited him to meet the kid he was sponsoring midst training, a ridiculously loud boy who mirrored Renjun’s prodigy talent for navigations. (Mark loved him.)

“Shut up, Zhong,” Youngmin said in a pinched tone, glowering at him from behind Minhyun and making Chenle shrink back slightly. Xuxi made an irritated noise, fixing to stand up, but Kun grabbed the bottom hem of his jumper and made to pull him down.

“If you get into a fight with him, the staff are going to kick us out of here permanently and the Captain will personally shove you into an escape pod headed towards the closest wormhole. Calm _down_ ,” Kun murmured firmly, own expression pinched and Xuxi slowly sat back down, grumbling to himself but relenting.

“Taeyong, sir, we need to talk to you,” Minhyun said, purposely ignoring everyone's eyes on them and staring straight at the Captain’s proxy himself, “Alone.”

“That’s not exactly fair, guys,” Taeyong reasoned in a steady voice, with spaghetti sauce in the corner of his mouth, “I am, you know. Definitely off shift right now.”

“It’s important,” Youngmin offered, low and quiet.

Xuxi spoke up then, after barking out a laugh. “It’s not fair for you to bother Taeyong-hyung on his time off. Bye, bye!”

“It's _about_ the criminals in the bri—” Minhyun snapped, before faltering, casting a furtive look around the room. And suddenly everyone was alert, and staring at him and nobody paid attention to when Kun dropped his fork to clutter onto the plate.

“You have criminals? On the _ship_?” Kun said in a low voice, alarmed. Mark turned back to look at Taeyong, peering at him, but Taeyong’s hard gaze was on nobody but Minhyun. In the low lighting, the man in the soft looking white sweater and thick rimmed glasses looked incredibly intimidating.

“Not criminals. Suspects,” Taeyong stood up then, suddenly to his full height, and Mark could’ve sworn he heard Youngmin gulp. Maybe it was him. “Minhyun.”

“Will you listen to me now?” Minhyun said, a whine colouring his tone, and it was weird, considering that the heavy-lidded man before them, who was older than a good chunk of the people present, was practically rolling over and showing belly.

“If this is about my patients, I’m coming too. Besides, if you’re going to the medical wing, you need a keycard.” Taeil coughed to get his attention, and the blonde captain in training blanched before puffing up.

“I don’t.” Taeyong said, slightly smug. “I have my master key somewhere...” He patted his pockets before making a strained face, embarrassed. “In my other coat.”

Taeil gave him a pointed look.

“Is anyone going to explain this? Taeyong-hyung?” Renjun asked quietly, though something in his tense expression showed he had an idea.

Minhyun smirked, wheeling on Renjun and levelling him with a dry look. “He’s not allowed to talk about it to the likes of you, anyway—“

“Don’t be an asshole, Minhyun-hyung,” Mark spoke up then, annoyed on behalf of his friend.  

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Minhyun countered, in a tone that suggested he absolutely was not, “but none of you are cleared for—“

“Enough!”

An exclamation broke them apart from their verbal fight, and they looked at Renjun, who was silently furious. Even a look at Taeyong showed his surprise. Renjun’s gaze shot to the lieutenant across the table. “Taeyong-hyung. Tell us what you want us to do.”

“I want…” A barely perceptive shake of his head, before his voice sounded firmer. “I need the rest of you to go back to your cabins apart from Taeil-hyung and you two.”

The others grumbled but complied, finishing their plates quickly, all apart from Mark whose fork rested on his plate, “Taeil-hyung.”

Taeil turned to him, lips pursed, “Yes?”

“The suspects… Two of them, right?” He asked, Taeil’s eyes meeting his. A myriad of emotions passed through his gaze, before one settled: wariness.

“Yeah, there are two.”

“The two we brought in, huh.” It wasn’t a question.

“… Yes.” Taeil nodded, sliding his coat on slowly, casting a glance at Taeyong.

Once again, the suspicions that the ‘cryo boys’ weren’t exactly innocent resurfaced in the back of his mind. It was strange the mission detailed search, not recover, and not much else moving on from that.

Mark hadn’t questioned it beforehand — he never did when Command was involved, never really had a reason to.

It was plausible enough the boys recovered could be criminals, but truly — who were they?

“I’m coming too,” Mark decided, all eyes landing on him. He could feel Minhyun’s sneer aimed at the back of his head at that. If Taeil wasn't versed enough to know, then what did that make Mark? He didn't even have a specialised skill.

Taeyong let out an exasperated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. Exhaustion etched into his frown, and Mark felt slightly guilty. “What, shall I invite everyone along for a little party with the prisoners?”

“So, they _are_ prisoners now?” Chenle grumbled, grabbing his holo from the table and tucking the stool under it loudly, because he was a child.

“You know what I mean,” Taeyong said sharply, his face then softening after he realised who his annoyance really should be directed at. His lackeys shrunk back once Taeyong’s eyes returned to them.

Mark smiled apologetically, “Well it’s fine, because it’s only me and Taeil-hyung going out of us.” Taeyong opened his mouth to argue, but after looking at Mark’s face, shook his head and let it slide.

“Oi, Mark Lee,” Renjun grumbled, glaring at him.

“Go back to the cabin and I’ll tell you later,” Mark leaned over the table with his hands braced on it, muttering lowly and appealing to Renjun with his eyes.

Both Youngmin and Minhyun didn’t look happy about what had transpired, clearly wanting to talk about this in private, and settled for averting their gazes whilst waiting for Taeil and Mark to get organized.

Frankly, Mark couldn’t stomach the weird hero worship that they both had moulded after Taeyong. This... was a joke, considering who was saying it — (Mark Lee was confirmed to be an anagram for Taeyong’s #1 Fan) — but in all honesty, everything about the two of them made him uncomfortable. He digressed, though.

His main priority was finding out about the boys they’d lifted from the still-living ship. He glanced at their bill, and the tucked multi-credit chip in it.

He’d paid beforehand, but had left a tip behind, slightly more than usual considering their night ended in a little more than casual conversation.

Renjun looked like he was gonna keep fighting it until Sicheng leaned over and muttered something in his ear. Mark wasn’t paying attention particularly but noticed Renjun’s expression simmered out into something more sheepish, hackles lowering.

“Okay?” Mark offered, feeling slightly guilty at fobbing him off like this.

“Okay. But you better tell me afterwards,” Renjun grumbled at him, and Mark grinned at him: a good-natured flash of white before he turned to Taeyong.

“Ready?” Taeyong still didn’t look happy, but he nodded, rounding the table to stand next to Youngmin.

“Lead on, then, boys.” The captain’s proxy sighed, and the two jumped to the task at head. They walked out of the restaurant, and with a wave, Taeil, Taeyong, and Mark followed after them.

And briefly, Mark's thoughts wandered to what would be so important for Taeyong to hear that they couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

 

★ ★ ★

 

“So… These suspects.” Mark offered, whistling lowly beforehand. They were walking down the empty hallway that lead to the infirmary, Taeil taking point.

“Speaking of which, I’d appreciate it if you keep secret matters secret, Minhyun,” Taeyong said, coldly, glaring at the back of the elder’s head.

“You weren’t listening to me… sir.” Minhyun said, mumbling the last part, and Mark masked the chuckle under his breath as a cough, it coming out an ugly snort. “It’s... important you see this.”

“See what? They’re under right now, aren’t they?” Mark offered, blasé. Youngmin cast him a dirty look and Mark ducked his head, looking away. “I should hope they are, anyway.”

“Well…” Youngmin continued, tone sharp, “you’ll see when we get there.”

The sentence was simple but did set off a quiet warning bell inside Mark’s head. They should be asleep. _Should be._

Taeil had mentioned that he was to put them on a considerable amount of anaesthesia, just to make sure they woke up slowly, and thinking of that put Mark and his mild worries at ease.

Currently though, the unreadable look on Taeyong’s face was like the eye of a storm — obscured every few seconds with the lights in the corridor shading and exposing it with every step they took.

They turned the corner, and Taeil stopped abruptly, “This is the first room.”

“Wait, hyung— Taeil-hyung, I wouldn’t—“ Minhyun said all of a sudden, alarmed, and Mark startled.

He waved his keycard before he could be halted with reason, and the opaque doors slid open.

Standing about a meter away from them was a boy in grey, with clenched fists and stormy eyes. He was behind a reinforced, one-way wall, and even though it was obvious the function was active, it truly felt like those impassive eyes were staring through Mark.

 _Well,_ he thought. _He’s definitely awake._

“This,” Minhyun said, gulping, “is what I wanted to show you. No, _needed_.”

“He’s managed to wake up after being put through anaesthesia, right?” Taeyong said in a small voice, and stepped forward slightly. His eyes never left the other man in the cell.

“It was the weakest version to be fair, to make sure they actually woke up slowly without harming them,” Taeil replied, voice small, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Mark seconded that with a nod, not trusting his voice then, remembering the orders the Head Attending had called out to the doctors on-call. “But it was still… it still should’ve kept him under for at least two more cycles.”

Cryo Boy #1 looked a lot taller standing in front of them. Furrowed brows obscured eyes that every so often darted around his holdings, taut veins visible with his hands clenched like that against the wall.

He had long legs, and a fair amount of lean muscle, something you wouldn’t get unless you worked for a ship like the ISD _Challenger_ with a mandatory fitness regime, so the body wouldn’t painfully waste away in the middle of a trip through the trans relay.

And of course, it was plausible he was from this galaxy, or even this dock, but Mark had never seen him on this ship before, so where the hell had he come from?

Taeyong paused for a moment, studying the anguish-filled man before stepping to the side and swiping a hand in front of the panel by the doors. A twisting motion, and suddenly the man focused right on Mark, his eyebrows furrowing. While it was a second’s worth of eye contact, it felt a lot longer. The prisoner’s eyes snapped to glare at Taeyong after scanning them all, obviously clocking him to be the most important out of the bunch.

“Where’s Haechan?” The stranger asked immediately, voice deep, husky from not using it for a while.

“Do you know where you are?” Taeyong replied evenly, keeping his face blank. Mark exchanged a look with Taeil, who looked positively on edge; medical key card in one hand and hovering near Taeyong. Mark didn't even bother looking at the others.

“Where is Haechan?!” He repeated, with his lip drawn back in something like a sneer; smacking a fist against the window-like wall.

Taeyong, raising an eyebrow minutely, carried on like he hadn’t been interrupted. “You’re on the International Space Dock _Challenger_. I’m Lieutenant Lee Taeyong, of the star ship _Neo_. This,” He turned and gestured to Mark a little ways behind him, “is Officer Mark Lee, of the star ship _Observer_. He was one of the people that rescued you.”

“We didn’t need rescuing, we were fine where we were! This has ruined everything, for G— Where’s _Haechan?!”_ The man was frustrated, punctuating the last question with a kick at the wall.

“The guy you came in with?” Mark spoke up finally, and the other levelled him with a look, anger stifling the slightest bit of hope in his eyes, “Orange hair, yeah?”

“That’s Haechan, my—” The man stopped then and for all his room echoed, his sigh of relief was audible. Mark gave Taeil a meaningful look, who quickly took over.

“He’s in… another room, two blocks down. Still asleep, last time I looked, but...” He left the last part unspoken, but it was pretty obvious. _But so were you._

Taeil continued then, voice soft. “I have a few questions for you, and then we’ll figure out what to do about Haechan, okay?”

“Okay,” and he suddenly sounded so young, so much that Mark could relate, because he had to be around the same age as him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Minhyun and Youngmin give each other confused looks. They had stayed silent the entire time, and

Mark found it funny how mouthy they could be one moment and stay mute the next. Taeyong glanced back at them, before twisting his mouth to the side and scrunching his eyebrows together, altogether an awfully Taeyong thing to do for when he was thinking things over. He stayed silent for a moment, then continued.

“You two, leave,” He finally said, fixing Minhyun and Youngmin with looks.

“What? But, sir—“ Youngmin whined, and Mark spied as the guy behind the glass fixed them two with a very confused look.

“Go. If you’re present for the meeting with the Commander I’ll inevitably have to go to after this fuck u— this thing, and not resting like I should be, you’ll know then. Scram.”

Mark didn’t say anything, didn’t deem them worth a look, but he did shoot Taeil a bashfully relieved one as soon as the two left the room.

Taeyong watched them go, and then turned back to the man behind the glass. “What’s your name?”

“Nana,” Nana’s voice sounded a lot less harsh with more use. He had a youthful aura around him, now he was less stressed and more focused. He couldn’t be that much younger than Mark, really. “Just Nana.”

“Okay, Nana,” Taeyong replied, nodding once. “This is Moon Taeil, he’s the person who’s been looking after you while you’ve been here. Say hi, hyung?”

“Hello, Nana,” Taeil’s voice was warm, coercive, and the one Mark noted he used on patients that wouldn’t calm down.

Nana’s eyes flicked to Taeil, mouthing the honorific after Taeyong silently. “Are you the oldest?” He asked after a while.

“Out of these boys? Yes,” Taeil said, stepping a bit closer, a welcoming smile spreading across his face.

“But you’re not the leader?”

“Of what, Nana?”

“Everything,” He responded simply.

“Taeyong here is training his hardest to become that.” Taeil gestured toward Taeyong, “But I prefer to take care of people more directly... I’m a medical officer. To do that, I need to make sure everyone under my care is okay.”

Nana nodded.

“Would you mind if I came in and did a check-up on you?”

Nana shook his head.

Taeyong glanced at Mark and then jerked his head to the entrance. Mark pursed his lips, frowning at Taeyong. The slight twitches and changes in Taeyong’s expression compared with Mark’s screwed up expression definitely gave the impression that they were having a silent argument.

It was only when Nana backed up slowly to sit back on the bed residing behind him, Taeil placing his medical key card on the desk near Mark and picking up the tricorder; with Taeyong distracted by waving his hand over the control panel did Mark finally move.

He could always convince the information out of either of them later, and with a sly glance at essentially the master key for this entire sector, he swiped it.

If Nana was fine and awake in here… _What about Haechan?_ He thought to himself, sliding it in his pocket and muttering a goodbye to the others. He felt Taeyong’s eyes on the back of the jacket he wore, and felt a flicker of relief flare when the doors shut behind him.

Taeil wouldn't mind... (much.)

He swung the master key around his index finger as he walked down the completely empty hallway, pushing away the slight feeling of guilt. This part of the block, the lower floors, were more of an infirmary and care unit for passengers that the Commander wasn’t sure of, or were waiting to be released into judicial custody, so essentially, they were a bunch of comfortable jail cells.

Mark wondered past one room and then stopped abruptly, turning to it and swiping it across the panel closest to him, watching as the doors opened.

Straightening his posture and practically squaring his shoulders, Mark Lee stepped into the room to reveal the prettiest guy he’d ever seen.

“Haechan” sat on the edge of his issued bed, swinging his legs back and forth and looking absolutely morose.

The orange hair he remembered from before had dulled down surprisingly fast, into a mix of light brown and orange. It kept falling in front of his eyes, and he made a habit to brush it back every so often, but that only gave a glimpse of sad eyes as he stared at the floor, his fringe falling in front of them again.

He was still wearing his grey uniform, much like Nana, however it looked different on him. He had a different build to his friend, with the similar muscle definition visible through the suit making Mark wonder who those two really were.

Even though he must’ve been similar in age to Mark, the thought that he was possibly an outlaw was... bewildering to say the least.

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him quietly before staring uneasily at him again. He had the chance to talk to him. First, he assumed. He could actually leave with some decent information, if Haechan was willing.

He couldn’t take too long, though. If Taeyong walked in on them, he’d probably kick him straight out the airlock, close friend or not. He grimaced. That wasn’t a pleasant thought.

He strode over to the panel and swiped a hand over it, doing the same turning motion and watching as the light in it turned green. He coughed loudly, trying to grab the other’s attention.

Haechan looked up, startled, his legs stilling mid-swing. He stared at Mark, his lips parting.

“Hello?” Mark tried, trying to keep his natural goofiness in check and settling for a hopefully approachable smile. The corners of his mouth hurt from his own awkwardness.

Haechan simply chose to blink at him, long and languid like a cat, something not quite unkind but nearing it twinkling in his eyes.

“I’m going to assume you can hear me. It’d be awkward as all stars if you couldn’t,” Mark breezed on, glancing to his side and spying a chair. He went to grab it, intending to sit down and maybe at least make the other man feel more at ease, before he halted the action. Maybe it would come across as pedantic, and Mark needed this guy as much on his side as possible. “Haechan, right?”

“… Yeah,” Haechan replied after a moment, his voice as husky as Nana’s from disuse.

“Do you mind telling me your full name?” Mark tried the casual route, stepping a bit closer to the now two-way wall and crossing his arms snug over his chest. The only way you could still see it between them was the periodic shimmer that passed over it, and Mark made sure to keep a healthy distance between it and his body.

Haechan looked like he was itching to copy that feigned chilled attitude, and Mark took it as a small victory.

“H— Haechan. I’m just Haechan,” He said, coughing into his fist in between his sentences.

“Just Haechan, huh?” Mark said, pretending to think it over. He snapped his fingers for added dramatics. “Ah, I know a Haechan. Nana wouldn’t stop calling for him.”

“Nana? He’s here? Is he okay?!” Haechan practically jumped off the bed and scanned the room frantically, as if looking for some sort of door. It was kind of endearing in a weird way.

“He’s fine, kid—”

“I’m not a kid!” Haechan snapped, suddenly exasperated and glaring at him from behind the glass. He seemed to finally breathe properly when Mark told him that Nana was fine.

They’d clearly not expected to get picked up and put... here, which, Mark could understand. He had sort of plucked them from their ship and put them in a cell for a reason not even Mark knew.

“How old are you then?” Mark continued, raising an eyebrow at the sudden rudeness.

“Twenty,” the copper haired man responded, the slightest of smugness filling his tone. He was around a similar height to Mark, he noted, the older claiming a few more inches over him however.

“Still younger than me.”

Haechan made a grumbling noise, before slowly sliding himself back on the bed, "How much?" He asked after a while.

"Ehhhhh. Only a year."

Haechan scoffed to himself, running a hand through his hair, but apart from that kept quiet for a moment. Mark didn’t press, happy to wait for the other to make the next move. The older was already studying him when he looked back, waiting him for yell, or scream for Nana, or complain about the confinements. Instead, he leaned back, corrected his posture and then ask rather politely:

“Where am I?”

“You’re on the space dock _Challenger_. The quadrant Ateela, to be exact, which is damn far from where you were.”

“This is…” He gulped. Mark watched the movement. “This is a pretty popular quadrant, right?”

Mark frowned at his reaction, confused and logging it away for future reference. “Well, considering the _Challenger_ is one of the top six docks in the of this universe… Basically the entire fleet comes here. About fourteen cycles away is the Andromeda citadel. Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty popular.”

“Okay,” Haechan had closed his sharp eyes then, speaking in a resigned voice, but didn't continue. He paused for a moment, eyes opening and scanning the room before settling back on Mark again. He tilted his head slightly, “How did I get here?”

“My fault, actually,” He said a bit sheepishly, holding his hands up in admittance. “Me and my partner pulled you back when you ended up blocking the trans relay in the Fassius 26 quadrant with your ship.”

“Oh.”

“And when I climbed aboard, what did I find Haechan?”

“I don’t know, stranger, what _did_ you find?” Haechan snarked back, and Mark’s calm expression almost cracked, a flare of annoyance prickling at the back of his neck. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly antsy, and then threw caution to the wind; stepped toward him once more.

“You and Nana, cryo frozen. You’d let the AI take over the ship, mainly life support, and from the looks of it, you were prepared to just stay there, weren’t you?”

Haechan levelled him with a dirty look, before huffing and looking away. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Now why is that?” Mark’s eyebrows raised in exaggerated surprise.

“I don’t appreciate random people butting in where they don’t belong.”

“And here I thought we were getting along,” Mark couldn’t help but snark back.

“I don’t even know your name,” Haechan turned on him and hissed back, and honestly? He had a point.

“Mark Lee. It’s nice to meet you, Haechan,” Mark attempted to wave obnoxiously, but Haechan had returned to looking away.

“Another point is, you’re not stuck behind the field like I am. We’re not friends, Mark Lee.”

“Okay, we’re not friends,” Mark countered frankly, and this time Haechan looked at him. He stared at him hard, eyes narrowing in the slightest as if he was trying to work out who this strange boy in casual clothes and an easy disposition was.

“You don’t look like an officer.”

“What’s an officer supposed to look like?”

“You know,” Haechan frowned, marring his good looks, waving his hand vaguely, “all… You know.”

“Do I?”

“Uniform, God,” He snapped, and _oh_ , that was new. He hadn’t heard any religious sentiment since… well… Academy days. Years ago, now. “You’re all casual.”

Mark frowned at that, looking down at himself, consequently remembering he wasn't in uniform. “Yeah, I’m not on duty right now. I was with a lieutenant and the guy who’s been looking after you for dinner, when we heard you’d woken up.”

As if on cue, Haechan’s stomach rumbled, and Mark laughed, muffling it with the back of his hand, “You hungry, Haechan?”

He looked up, embarrassment flooding in the form of a red blush across his cheeks, and Mark nodded to himself, feeling a weird sort of pity for the… well, prisoner. That was weird to think about. “Taeil-hyung’ll be coming soon. And Taeyong-hyung. They’ll feed you and do some medicals. You’ll love ‘em, they aren’t as scary as me.”

“Let’s get one thing straight: you’re not scary,” Haechan rebuked instantly, laughing something on the cusp of derisively at him.

Mark’s eyebrows raised again, and Haechan looked away for the third time. “Good to know. Like I said, they’ll be coming, and you’ll eat soon. I’ll see you later.”

When Haechan didn’t respond, Mark stood and tucked the chair back to where it was originally, under the desk, before approaching the wall with the mission to turn off the two way glass panes.

He raised his hand, prepared to swipe and end the conversation, when the boy behind the glass yelped: “Wait!”

Mark peered around the edge of the opaque wall to where he could actually see Haechan. They were closer now, and he could see more of the boy. Tan skin, a small splatter of freckles dotted around his face, and a surprisingly sharp eyeline. He squinted at him. “What’s the matter?”

“Can I… see Nana soon?” He said, quiet, like it was the only thing that mattered to him. He was fisting the sheets beside him, and his eyes had averted to the floor when Mark replied, but ever so slowly he built the confidence to look back over to Mark. His eyes were dark, a look of vulnerability filling them, and out of nowhere Mark felt a pang of sympathy.

“I don’t know,” Mark found himself answering honestly, chewing the inside of his lip when Haechan winced. “But, if you answer all the questions the others have for you, I’m sure you’ll see him soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Haechan uttered quietly, pulling his legs up onto the bed and hugging his knees to his chest.

“See you later, Haechan,” Mark offered, but he didn’t expect a response. He swiped across the panel, and the light turned blue again, signalling Haechan couldn’t see him.

It was a shame, he thought to himself, that a boy so pretty looked so sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mark with a schoolboy crush???? does renjun fancy xuxi???? WHAT is haechan's deal??? find out next time on MISSION INCOMING. . . 
> 
> [twitter!](http://twitter.com/solarwaltz)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” Renjun mumbled, again.
> 
> Mark made a noise that translated to, _I’m really tired, what do you want?_
> 
> “Tell me about the cryo boys.”

“So how was it?”

Renjun’s voice was booming as soon as Mark stepped into their shared room, sliding off his shoes.

“Dude. How are you that loud this late,” Mark winced in pain for his ears, stripping off the jacket he wore. He draped it over the chair closest to him, too tired to even deal with the hangers in the wardrobe right now, before glancing at furniture piece in question.

Frankly, the functions the wardrobe offered were mostly useless in favour of physically opening the door and selecting something with his own two eyes, but Mark in his state of tiredness wasn’t picky or ready for that sort of technology.

He shook his hand over the panel for a fizzy image of the contents to materialise, before selecting baggy, basketball-like shorts, and turning back to face an imploring Renjun. “How was what?”

“What do you mean, how was what? _‘How was what’_ — hey. Mark Lee,” Renjun glowered down at him. Mark chuckled, starting to unbutton his jeans.

“It was pretty… cool actually?” He offered, unbuttoning his jeans, and beginning to slide out of his jeans n a series of swift movements.

“I can’t believe you went out in that jacket again, by the way,” Renjun commented, looking at him with the patented Renjun Stare-Down™ and Mark pursed his lips at him, mid leg-jean extraction, “People are gonna think it’s the only thing you own.”

“I can’t believe you actually think I… care,” Mark grumbled back, punctuating it by kicking his jeans into the corner out of the way, before he felt bad and wandering over to put them in the actual anti-grav laundry compartment.

He half sprang into his bunk, hitting the mattress hard and grunting in pain. He wiggled slightly so he could flip over and rest comfortably on his pillow, closing his eyes.

“Hey,” Renjun mumbled, again.

Mark made a noise that translated to, _I’m really tired, what do you want?_

“Tell me about the cryo boys.”

Mark looked above him. The bottom of Renjun’s bunk was smooth and flat, and not like the ones back on Earth. Those were proper wood, alternating planks and space, revealing bits and pieces of the mattress above. Mark slept in one when he was nine and obnoxious, and spent every night poking his small fists between the planks and disturbing his older brother above.

“They were… young.”

“What?”

“Like, our age. Your age. Haechan said he was twenty,” He mused quietly.

Sleep pillowed out Renjun’s tone, but even Mark could note the surprise in his voice, “You know their names?”

“The orange haired one is called Haechan. Well, actually, he’s not red haired anymore. More like a ginger... brown,” He screwed his nose up, his thoughts drifting over to the mystery boy again. “The other one calls himself Nana.”

Mark could imagine Renjun nodding, the only sound the slight squeak of the mattress. “Did you get to talk to them?”

“I wasn’t allowed to stick around to hear Nana properly, but he seemed nice enough.”

“And Haechan?”

“Yeah, I got to talk to him.”

Renjun lugged himself to the side and peered over the edge of his bunk to look down at his friend. “You did?”

Mark peered up at his upside down face, nodding slowly, “Yeah, and you can’t tell anyone either. I totally betrayed Taeil-hyung’s trust. It’s eating away at me here.”

“Who would I tell? Sicheng-ge? _You’ll never guess who Mark-hyung was talking to. Some pirates_!” Renjun mocked, throwing his hands up, and even though he was taking a huge, blatent dig at Mark, the latter couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“Anyways man, I don’t know, it was kinda… odd. He didn’t talk that much at first but after a while I got a few things out of him. He was kinda weirded out over how much traffic this place gets, and like…” He paused, a yawn swallowing up his words. “Like how popular this quadrant is, you know? Where we were and stuff.”

“Maybe he wanted to hide...” Renjun muttered quietly, words leading like he wanted to say more. He looked pensive, thoughtful, but didn't chase up on what he said.

“Maybe. Doubt it though. What would a bunch of kids have to hide from?” Mark asked, stretching wide and sinking back into his bunk bedding. He heard the tell-tale creak of Renjun’s when he, too, leaned back into his.

“So, what was he like?”

“I dunno. Quiet. Kind of annoying,” Mark said bluntly, his honesty making his partner laugh. “But I guess it was a bad situation, so I can’t really blame his him for his attitude but. Ugh.”

“Ugh?”

“He was so rude to me, and _sure_ , honorifics aren’t that relevant the cultural vacuum that is space compared to Earth but. Ugh. Is it that hard to be polite to your elders?”

“Stars... you are _such_ a nerd.”

Mark’s face coloured when Renjun laughed again, and pursed his lips before continued.

“Anyways. They both honestly seemed so… Not like space criminals? Like they wouldn’t know how to actually operate a ship, let alone be a threat.”

Renjun whistled lowly, and Mark let out a content sigh when the lights in their room automatically powered down to 25%. “Maybe that's what they want you to think." Mark could practically visualise him wiggling his eyebrows. Renjun continued, "I wonder what they did.”

“Me too, man,” Mark replied after a moment. What _did_ they do? Command wouldn’t keep them in the brig for a one-off thing as as this, at least not for an extended period of time. Maybe the real question was something like who actually were they, really?

Maybe he’d get to talk to Haechan again and ask him what was up, but when? Taeyong probably wouldn’t allow it for a while, would maybe post Dumb and Dumber by the entrance of the medical brig to stop anyone unauthorised from wandering in and interacting with them.

But really thought, what had they done to be there? Maybe Mark had been interacting with secret serial killers all the time. Or maybe they really _did_ belong to a secret pirate ring, and spent their time robbing the starcrafts that braved the edges of the universe alone.

What it definitely was, was speculation, and sleep fuelled speculation at that. Mark didn’t have the time for his brain to be coming up with all sorts of different situations and reasons for their purpose here, especially not as he was about to drift off. “Hey, Injun-ah.”

“Hmm?” Renjun said, yawning.

“What did you do while I was gone?”

There was a short pause, like Renjun had missed the beat of the conversation and was waiting for it to come back around, “I was here, where else?”

“Pfft,” Mark snorted, turning towards the wall side of the bed and sliding under the covers. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay, okay. I was getting less—… ugh, you know what? This is embarrassing. Never mind! I’m going to bed,” Renjun aborted, sounding self-conscious and shuffling in his bed covers.

“Wait, wait, what were you doing?” Mark laughed, though part of him was seriously intrigued. _Lessons?_ He leaned on his elbow and peered at the upper bunk. Renjun wasn’t visible.

“Are you jealous I have other friends, hyung?” The younger spun back on him, refusing to look down at him.

“Kind of, but not that much. I think I’ll just live with Taeil-hyung instead. Is it too late for me to apply as a medical officer?

“…Correct,” Renjun definitely did not whine, if you asked him. Mark chuckled, rolling back into bed properly.

“Can I go to bed now?” The older asked after a moment of silence. The only light that remained in the room was coming through the glass pane above their door from the hallway lights, a soft muted blue that left Mark feeling oddly secure. “Have I completely sated your weird curiosity and meddling?”

“Meddling? Coming from you? That's rich,” Renjun giggled, and it was still nice, warm, even though he was exhausted. “You've done enough. You may rest.”

“Thank you, my liege,” Mark replied sarcastically, before sinking deeper into the covers. “Goodnight, Renjun.”

The last thing he heard was a mumbled, “Sleep well, hyung" as he drifted off.

 

 

★ ★ ★

 

 

“You _know_ I can't talk about this stuff, Mark.”

Mark let out what must have been the third frustrated sigh in the last ten minutes. Taeyong’s unimpressed expression failed to budge, no matter how much Mark complained, and worsened when the documents in his hands threatened to spill between his fingers.

The officer hovered then, debating on finally just leaving his hyung alone or pester him some more, but instead grabbed the other's messenger bag and decided to shoulder it himself, feeling bad for harassing him.

“Come on, hyung. Let's go to your meeting and then we can talk.”

Taeyong made a mix between an aggravated and appreciative sound and walked through the doorway anyway.

It had been around two weeks’ worth of cycles since Mark had talked to the prisoners.

Taeil had found out his master key card had been misplaced (keyword: taken) the following cycle, and yelled at Mark for a total of two minutes solid before offering to whip him up a protein shot, so it was all resolved remarkably quickly in that end.

Honestly, he had been so busy with smaller jobs, missions on deck and his routines that he hadn’t had the chance to act on his plan to sneak down to see them.

Renjun didn’t know why he was so invested, and to be fair, neither did Mark. (Xuxi had grinned one second and called him obsessed the next. That had resulted in Mark smacking his friend square in the chest.)

“There’s not much to talk about,” Taeyong frowned in his general direction as they went, twisting his body to face him rather than turn his head. It seemed to be his permanent expression these days, and Mark felt guilty.

“I just wanna know what’s happening with them, you know? We _were_ the ones who fished them out of their ship.”

They reached the end of the corridor, and Taeyong mourned the fact that the time he would have to carry these things again was fast approaching. Mark, trying not to laugh at his despair, moved forward and scanned his own identification card so they could go through the door together.

As soon as they passed that threshold, Taeyong finally relented, realising he couldn’t deny Mark’s pleading expression whilst they hovered.

“Well... they’re not prisoners anymore. They told us the reason why they were in cryo — which is secret, don’t get any ideas — they haven’t run a red flag as Wanted anywhere, so they’ve passed the checks of validity. We recovered the ownership data from their ship, and they asked for work to pay off repairs…” Taeyong looked surreptitiously behind them, before leaning a little closer. “You know they’re originally stationed at the _Capital_?”

Mark’s eyes widened comically, intrigue bubbling. The _Capital_ was notoriously hard to get stationed at. Rather than just a simple docking station, it existed as the main city within the Triangulum galaxy, a hub for various species and races to live supposedly in harmony under the current Prime Minister, a one Jinhwang Lee.

Better known as Mark’s idol, funnily enough.

It worked generally in-line with the various other few docking stations in the universe, and transfers to the Capital were possible of course, but they were definitely within the rare category.

“What shift are they on?” Mark pressed, eyes wide with interest. Taeyong slung him a look then, in disbelief that Mark wasn’t satisfied to which the first year officer had the decency to look sheepish at.

They carried on then and walked into the office boardroom block, used mostly for diplomatic government talks and hearings for events that happen on-dock.

This docking ship was somewhat neutral ground, much like the rest of them — council members and higher-ranked people Mark could only dream of meeting had unbiased conversations and debates there. Taeyong was probably on his way to one now, if all the paperwork was something to go by.

“What do you mean what shift?”

“Alpha? Beta? Omega? Epsilon? All? None?—"

“You ask so many questions, Mark-yah, please,” Taeyong sounded despondent. “Why don’t you ask them? You’ll be crossing paths sometime soon I’m sure… want me to check over the schedules to see if you’ll on the same station?”

Mark choked then, blinking rapidly and hurriedly saying, “I mean... I don’t care that much, I just—”

“Yeah, yeah, check your phone later,” Taeyong said, shaking his head minutely and directing Mark a fond smile,  “My stop. Thanks for carrying that stuff, Mark.”

“It is... Fine,” Mark stuttered with a slight flush on his face, moving to give the lieutenant his belongings back a beat too slow. Taeyong’s laugh was embarrassingly loud as he took initiative and got the things back from Mark.

“See you later, kid. Catch you at lunch, yeah?”

“Maybe…” Mark said, recovering; part of him determined to keep up whatever remaining air of mystery he had about him… before giving up and wiggling his eyebrows. “See you later, hyung.”

With one last smile, Taeyong disappeared into the room.

(Later on, when Mark was hanging out with Hina and Koeun in one of the recreation spaces, watching them play holo games, Taeyong sent him a list of matched up times with a _good luck making friends kid!!_ to rub salt in his wound of embarassment.)

 

 

★ ★ ★

 

 

“Is Officer Mark Lee down there?” The intercom static sound fizzled out until only the clear sound of Taeil’s voice echoed out.

“I’m here, hyung,” Mark gritted out louder than he should have, a multi-wrench in-between his teeth as he fixed up a panel under the navigation deck. His voice echoed around the corridor that only he was in and he winced.

The issue about corridor 41-B was that it was the one with the dodgy lights that flickered on and off consistently even though Wendy-noona, head of astro mechanics whose projects were siphoning power from general systems in this section of the dock, had promised him with her big, persuasive eyes that, “just wait a little longer, I promise that they’ll work soon!" just that very morning.

He couldn’t find it within himself to snap his frustrations at her, so he just sighed and let it be, knowing full well it was a lost cause. He’d hoped to work under solid light, especially considering he was working with temperamental electronics down here, but that was clearly a stretch, and so he tried his best under the strobing ones.

Taeil’s voice switched to his comms then, as to not disturb anyone within the area, but it wasn’t like anyone else was down here. Just him, and his panel issues. Kind of like a horror movie.

“Are you busy? Could you please do me a favour?”

“Depends, I ammmm... fixing somethin’ right about now,” He responded, a bit muffled, and fluttering his eyelids a bit when the lights went out longer than he expected. They popped back when Mark was finishing the last screw, before soldering it with the end of the now burning part of the wrench. Another good thing about space was the tools were _way_ more advanced than they were in Old Earth’s past. “Oh, actually...”

When Mark was back on his home planet, it took so long to fix about anything — the second-hand truck his father gave him for finishing his physics degree, the door hinges of practically every and any door in his family’s old house — frankly he was lucky that Jinhwang Lee of Sunsim Enterprises had capitalised the working intergalactic world with his mechanical life-savers everyone else called multi-tools before he’d even taken the shuttle up there.

(Rule Number 3: Praise Jinhwang Lee.)

“Never mind,” he continued, punctuating the rest of his sentence by tightening the last bolt. “I’m free.”

“You’re free? Good, good,” Taeil’s voice was warm and Mark smiled despite himself.

Taeil was the definition of the mother hen on the ship, suffice to say. Whenever Mark broke his second rule and felt a particular wave of homesickness, he always went to him if he didn’t want to bother Renjun, and Taeil helped him work it out.

He wasn’t really good with his words — whether they were about himself or another else, but Moon Taeil with his adaptable disposition and open smile really made him try.

“Can you bring the box of bulk stimpaks that are waiting in the cargo dock under my name to the infirmary please? I say that, It _should_ be under my name. You know how signing stuff out is down there...” He trailed off, no doubt thinking about the past few transgressions.

Oh, Mark knew. “On it, boss. I’ll be ten minutes, yeah?”

“See you then, Mark-yah,” Taeil’s smile was audible, and with that quiet goodbye, he quit the call.

Now, realistically, Mark should’ve realised it would’ve taken ages to pick up the stimpaks.

The _Challenger’s_ security was tight which, of course, he was grateful for. He’d come to know over the past year that picking things up in place of his friends was always the biggest hassle known to man, or officer.

Ten minutes turned to twenty after an awkward, half-shouting match that ended with Mark namedropping his sponsor, Lieutenant Lee Taeyong and the man who sent him on this task, Head Attending Physician Moon Taeil.

Shortly after that, he walked out of the dock and toward the medical wing with the heavy box of stimpaks in his hands.

He picked up the pace, glancing at the projected time on the upcoming, large wall display in the corridor and wincing at the time.

The Security always had it in for him, stars if he knew why. He dipped down the stairs, mildly distracted by the view upon turning the corner and setting foot on the Bridge.

The Bridge was a figurehead of the worker-aspect of the _Challenger_. One of the highest sections of the dock, it was lit up by the huge window panes that showcased the Europa B2, the moon orbiting the nearest planet to them. It was overwhelming, something so piercing and cobalt, punctuating that sea of stars yet surrounded by a blackness that just seemed to pull you in the more you stared at it.

He definitely felt that pull, and it always left him feeling... poor. It was never to the extent of disassociation, he thought, but either thinking a little too hard, too deep on this sort of thing or simply gazing at it always left him with a heavy feeling in his gut and a ringing in his ears.

Space was so unpredictable, and even though there was no piece of him that regretted enrolling into the Academy, clueless but willing to do anything to get away, there was always an underlying nervousness that attached to him like a second skin.

Being separated from his death by (reinforced) glass wasn't something he liked to dwell on, and the Bridge seemed to force him into that regardless upon whether he wanted to or not. 

Heading away from the very glaring precipice of discomfort, he carried on, reshuffling his grip on the box in his hands and resolutely carrying on to the medical wing. Or, at least, he would have, if he didn’t run into an issue along the way.

Moving onwards was not said issue.

 _Said issue_ was staring too much at the swirling dark outside before looking where his feet were going. Two steps forward and he collided with a solid force that knocked him and the box he was carrying straight to the floor.

The pang of pain rooted at his clavicle, soon followed by the slam of the cold floor beneath his ass.

“Ow, ow, ow…” Mark muttered, eyes shut, clutching his collarbone where the box dug in with one hand with the other propping him up into a painful sitting position.

“Fuck me,” A familiar voice mumbled under their breath, that made Mark’s eyes open immediately. Before him, of course, _of course_ , was the boy who had been plaguing his interest for the past few weeks. Haechan’s eyes opened then, that same sharp gaze hovering on him before narrowing. “You!”

“Me,” Mark acknowledged, both sheepish and kind of annoyed at how this was going already. He looked around briefly, relieved to see nobody else was on the bridge at that time, only looking back when Haechan let out a groan.

Illuminated by the stars behind the large window pane adjacent, the copper haired boy had his head tilted back, thumb and forefinger clutching at his nose bridge, Adam’s apple prominent.

“Fuck,” He mumbled again, “I knew this was a mistake.”

“What was?” Mark said, eyes wide and earnest, intrigue washing over him all over a sudden and making him forget the dull thud of pain.

Haechan opened his eyes again and peered down his nose at him, looking incredulous, “Are you kidding me? Did knocking into me dislodge your last braincell?”

“Hey,” Mark admonished, mildly hurt. Haechan scoffed, screwing his nose up a bit and choosing not to answer, making the tonic of annoyance and embarrassment flare at the back of his neck again. “Are you okay?

“Of course not!” The other snapped again, before pitching forward slightly and moving his hand away. “Am I bleeding?!”

“No, but… it does, you know. Look kinda red.”

Mark’s words made Haechan look at him properly then, features marred in disbelief. The older officer continued on, brushing himself off and standing up with an ache, “Do you want to go to the med bay? I can take you there?” His voice was pitched up, kind of making everything sound like a question and part of him, in the back of his brain, called him an idiot.

“I know where to go, thanks,” The other boy’s voice was clipped, high toned voice all brusque but he still hadn’t scrambled to get up and Mark, for some weird reason, didn’t take that as a shut-down. _Curse my never-ending need to be liked by everybody._

“I mean, I’m going there now, so like…” He barrelled on, extending a mildly unsure hand to help the other up. Haechan peered at him then, eyes narrowed, and brow creased up at Mark.  

There was an odd number of beats between their exchange, with the strange boy’s heavy gaze flicking between Mark’s face and his extended hand. It was almost like Haechan was calculating the outcomes, or Mark’s ulterior motives.

(The only motive on his mind was apologising, though?)

When he was about to withdraw it out of sheer exasperation, Haechan surged forward and slid his smaller hand into Mark’s, an unsure expression letting slip on his face. Mark, surprised, almost forgot to tighten his grip, and they hung there awkwardly limp before he pulled him up with what he hoped was an apologetic smile.

They surfaced a little closer than expected, and Mark tried not to stutter through his next few words.

“I’m seriously sorry, man. I was rushing, I got something to do and, you know. We crashed,” Mark said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with the hand now free after Haechan let go almost immediately and stepped back.

“It’s whatever,” The light copper haired boy said, a little of the hostility dropping out of his tone, but he rubbed at his nose anyway, a disgruntled expression on his face.

“Can I take you to the medical wing anyways?” Mark said, squatting down to shift the stimpak box back into his arms, and trying not to feel too bad when Haechan backed off slightly again. “I feel bad, and I have to go there regardless, so...?”

Haechan looked behind him, like he had somewhere to be. That, or like he was under watch, which set off another little warning flag somewhere in Mark’s head that there was more to the Haechan and Nana story than met the eye. Then, almost immediately his hackles lowered. 

Xuxi had always called him way too cautious for his own good, but that was why he had a mission success and safety rate of 100%, and Xuxi’s was a meagre 78%.

Haechan let a soft breath leave his lips, looking like he was mulling over his options and then agreed with a flat, “Fine.” Even though everything in his voice made it seem like it wasn’t fine, his expression had tapered out to something more neutral and Mark took that as a win.

“Cool, cool. Coooool,” Mark repeated it clumsily, standing up and after hovering slightly at the box weight, he led them off without another word. Haechan was a few steps behind, fingers gingerly touching the bridge of his nose with a mutinous expression on his face every so often, but otherwise saying nothing to push the other into a new conversation.

The medical hanger was only a few, long corridors away, but the walk was filled with a tense silence.

Mark ran through a couple of relaxed conversation starters that wouldn’t make Haechan bolt, but came up with nothing the entire trip there, leaving a weird feeling permeating the air.

They passed a couple of officers and medical staff on the way to the wing, who peered at Haechan with interest as they moved through the silvery, stereotypically designed pathways.

(The moment he had first stepped onto this dock, it had been a painful reminder of the Star Trek series he and his brother had marathoned once in a whole day when their parents were away, wrapped under blankets and knees knocking together when phasers were ever set to kill.)

Haechan refused to meet their eyes, but they soon forgot about him when they realised it was Mark behind the boxes leading them; leaving him to cheesily grin and juggle the box in one hand as he attempted a salute, before carrying on through the winding pathways.

Once they managed to survive the cumbersome, quiet stroll to reach the medical wing, Mark frowned, realising his mistake.

With his card around his neck, and his hands completely full, there was no way for them to enter through the stock entrance without a weird manoeuvre.

He huffed in annoyance, and pretending like he wasn't subject to viewing, before he waddled over and precision shimmied in front of the card reader to let them through. After a few seconds of coming up empty, Haechan stepped forward.

“Are you ser—? Ugh, come here,” Haechan said, annoyance colouring his tone as he placed a firm hand on Mark’s upper arm.

Wide-eyed, Mark let himself be manhandled back a little as the strawberry-brown haired boy slid in between the older boy and the door scanner and positioning him in a certain way that was definitely uncomfortable, but made it easier to grab Mark’s identification card.

Up close like this, Mark could see the moles scattered on his warm toned skin that disappeared under his loaned, ISD issued uniform neckline, the sharp crease of his eyeline as he stared briefly and unabashedly at Mark’s ID picture. He could even see the beginnings of a nasty spot just below his cheekbone.

Despite having the attitude of a snot nosed kid, Haechan really was something else. What that something else pertained to, Mark really didn’t want to think about any further.

Haechan looked up then, dark brown eyes startlingly clear as they locked with Mark’s, and he pursed his lips almost immediately; stepping back and waving the older boy’s card over the scanner. “Done,” he said, coolly, but moving so he was out of Mark’s line of sight. If there was a waver in his voice, Mark didn’t notice it.

“Um... thanks,” Mark said succinctly, as the double doors slid open and the two headed through. After signing the package off with the security staff waiting by the door (the ones who didn’t greet him quite so kindly), he started to feel an ache in his arms, and set off to the front desk of the lobby room.

“Hi, uh, Officer Lee, M? Doctor Moon is expecting us and this package,” he said, smiling with his cheek squished against the cardboard. The older man at the desk smiled at him like he could do no wrong and told him to head to the upper floor back rooms that held outpatient interviews.

He slung a look behind him to find that Haechan was was already watching him. The younger’s relaxed expression flickered, but didn’t crumble, and Mark bit down on his smile before taking off to the elevator at the end of the room. “Come on, then,”

“You have a lot of friends,” Haechan said suddenly, quietly. It was interesting, hearing his speak now. It was like he was making a conscious effort to balance the thin line between polite and rude, not quite ready to call him 'hyung', but not quite ready to act like they were best friends. 

Mark didn’t stop at that, but he did hover, almost pausing to turn around and look at him. Haechan was following along still, sounding like he had long forgotten his war-torn injury, and Mark didn’t acknowledge his words until they were waiting by the doors.

“You think?” He asked, curious but occupied by pressing the button to call the elevator and reshuffling the box in his hands to get a little blood flow back into them. His fingers were numb at this point. “I don’t think I have a lot. Most of the people on here who I know are my superiors.”

“But in the halls?” The younger one pressed, arms crossed tight over his chest. Mark finally turned to look at him them, surprise written in the way he raised his eyebrows.

“They’re just being nice,” Mark shrugged, peering at Haechan strangely. “Polite.”

Haechan shook his head, obviously unwilling to press the topic further since he wasn’t getting the answer he wanted. The doors opened to the elevator box before Mark could say anything else, and Haechan slid through the doors almost immediately.

Mark followed, leaning the box to one arm and deftly jabbing the ‘4th Floor’ button with more force than was probably necessary. Because it was a dock rather than a citadel, and there wasn't a full hospital on board, the medical wing remained something more like a big clinic.

Things like transport and transfers were available say patients weren't able to be treated at that specific time, and Taeil certainly had his hands full juggling medical care for this huge dock. 

The silence settled once more, and Mark’s eyes flicked over to where Haechan was, a little closer to the door.

His fingers were tapping to an unknown beat on his upper arm, and there was a stiff set of his jaw, illuminated by the smooth oseon blue that flickered with each floor they slowly climbed. He somehow managed to look both out of place and fit right in, in the  _Challenger_ uniform.

Almost like he had trained with Renjun and his other friends, in the academy. He wondered what kind of training he did on the other side of the galaxy, to be stationed at the  _Capital._ He wondered—

“What about you?” Mark blurted out before he could stop himself.

“What about me, what?” Came the stiff reply.

“Friends. You got many?” He said, ignoring the rudeness bubbling in the other’s tone. When Haechan didn’t reply immediately, he pushed it further. “Like Nana? You guys seem close.”

At the mention of Nana, Haechan’s fingers stilled. “Yeah,” he started, sounding like he was purposefully trying to make his voice not quiver. “Nana, he’s... my closest? I guess.”

“How did you meet?” Mark asked, interest colouring his voice. This was the most he’d heard the other speak since they’d met, and also the most neutral he’d been despite the situation. Some part of him really wanted to hear him talk a little more.

The blue oseon lights danced over both of their faces as they climbed each floor. Haechan cast him a very suspicious look, before answering slowly. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Oh. That’s cool!” Mark said, trying to tone down his earnestness and failing miserably. He went to open his mouth again, but the sliding of the elevator doors cut him off, as did the AI voice announcing they had arrived to the floor.

Biting the inside of his cheek with annoyance, Mark reshuffled the box in his grip and made to head out first. “Is he the same age as you?”

“Hey, listen.”

Haechan extended an arm, stopping Mark when he went to leave. Mark just barely stopped himself from bumping into the arm, unceremoniously, confused. _What now?_

“This is... a mistake,” Haechan said stiltedly, watching the doors as they slid shut again. He leaned back and kept the 6th floor bottom jammed with his thumb, before returning to gaze at Mark coolly. This left them trapped in the small box, staring each other down.

“What is?” Mark said, a sliver of exasperation slipping out into his tone. He ended up putting the box down at his feet, his arms crying out in pain too much for him to keep up. He shook them out, clenching his fingers once, twice before letting them hang loose by his sides.  

“This,” Haechan said, gesturing between them with his free hand. “Whatever you’re trying to do.”

“Uh. Being civil, maybe?”

Mark’s frown only deepened when his words seemed to make Haechan’s expression dull further. “Remember what I said when we met? We’re not friends, stranger.”

“So, let me get to know you then,” he replied, unsure why he was pushing this so much. He knew he should stop running his mouth, maybe stop pushing him further. It wasn’t even that deep, frankly. He didn’t know the other boy.

But he wanted to, for some strange reason, and the usual filter within him that saved him from progressing dumb situations further wasn’t active at the moment, it seemed.

Haechan rolled his eyes then, fiddling with his fringe before sweeping it to the side. “Not an option. I’ll be gone in a month. And I’m not looking to make friends so—“

“Mark Lee.”

Haechan stopped when Mark interrupted him, head cocking to the side in the slightest and brow furrowing again. “Excuse me?”

“You said we weren’t friends the last time I introduced myself because you were behind the glass, right? But you’re not anymore. You’re a free man,” Mark said, clicking his fingers once more one-by-one and sticking a hand out between them. “So I wanted a redo.”

“Mark…” Haechan said, a warning as his expression wavered from something other than the careful blank slate, eyes flicking down to stare at Mark’s hand. He took that as somewhat of a positive. “It’s just not a good idea. Me and Nana will be out of here soon on the other side of the galaxy and — I can’t. I don't want to, and I can't.”

Mark, safe to say, was absolutely confused. He finally let the hand drop between them, pushing Haechan to meet his eyes again. _What was his problem?_ “You know it’s gonna be a super lonely month, right?”

“Somehow I think I’ll manage,” Haechan said with something close to a smile before he could stop himself; bantering rather than snapping. He bit on the inside of his cheek as soon as it slipped out of his mouth, pinched expression prominent. “I’m gonna go find someone to give me some medical salve on another floor.”

That was a conversation ender if he ever heard one. Well, fine. He didn’t have to seek Haechan out. He didn’t have to acknowledge him, or think about him. That chapter was closed. Done. Over with.

“You know? I really don’t get you,” Mark said before he could stop himself, irritation dancing in his eyes as he squatted down to collect the box once more. He leant over to the keypad, unfortunately close to Haechan, to press the open doors button.

Haechan didn’t say anything, didn't react, not even a goodbye when Mark made to leave the box. The rational part of Mark, the one that was wholly present to be fair, couldn't blame him considering he had well and truly cut him off before anything could even transpire between them.

Frankly, he didn’t owe Mark anything. Sadly, Mark couldn't translate that acceptance into his own words, and thus this dramatic departure was happening.

Not bothering to throw a look over his shoulder, Mark headed out of the elevator box and down the corridor to look for Taeil; not watching as the doors almost immediately slid towards each other in a close.

(If he had, he would’ve noticed Haechan stepping a bit back to the centre of the lift with his arms wrapped around himself a little tighter than user, expression slipping once more as the metal doors of the lift shut between them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh... we love boys who can't communicate! (UPDATE: i reformatted it to make the large paragraphs broken up a lil!! seemed a bit too full on initially, hope this is easier on the eyes)
> 
> [twitter!](http://twitter.com/solarwaltz)

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/solarwaltz) • [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/nahei)


End file.
